


all lovely things at last go down to you

by orange_yarn



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, F/M, Groundhog Day, Post-Episode: s02e08 Spacewalker, Self Harm, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 07:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3281564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orange_yarn/pseuds/orange_yarn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That night, you stand there in the mud and rain, with a knife in your hand and Finn's last kiss on your lips, and you do it all over again.</p><p>(It's still February 2nd where I am, so in honor of the holiday, here's the Flarke Groundhog Day! AU that probably no one wanted. Sorry.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	all lovely things at last go down to you

**Author's Note:**

> Hahahahahaha I'm sorry. I told my sister that I was going to write a Groundhog Day!AU. A few days later I told her it might not have a happy ending. She wasn't surprised. This ending I settled on is as close to happy as I could get it.
> 
> If you haven't seen the movie "Groundhog Day," then let me explain the premise: Bill Murray is stuck repeating the same day over, and over, and over again. In my head I was referring to this as a "Monday" AU, after one of my favorite episodes of the X-Files, which has the same plot. I think there's a Supernatural episode as well, but that's all I can think of at the moment.
> 
> The title comes from the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, my absolute favorite story from Greek mythology, and I think very fitting for how Clarke and Finn's love story ended. 
> 
> WARNINGS: This story contains major character death, descriptions of blood and violence, self harm, and more death. Quite a lot of death.

1.

  
  
 _Thanks, princess_ , he murmurs, right in your ear. Your hands are slick with his blood and you can still taste that last kiss as he breathes out, and doesn't breathe back in. His head drops to his chest as you take a step backwards, the knife still hanging loose in your grasp. There's this buzzing in your ears and it's so loud, but you can still hear a cry from one of the Grounders, you can still hear Raven screaming.  
  
Your heart's hammering in your chest as it hits you, what you've done, and you can't even breathe, you can't breathe, and--

  
  
2.

 

\--and you open your eyes.

The first time it happens, you chalk it up to the head injury. Just a moment ago Finn died by your hand, and now--  
  
\--Now he's here, looking mournful and desperate when he asks, _how's your head?_ and you're so shocked to see him that you forget to speak, you forget how to speak because how is this real? You're back in the dropship, you've got a splitting headache, and your hands are clean and Finn's heart is beating.  
  
He calls your name, fingertips brushing your face and you remember to breathe again. _I'm right here_ , you promise, and you hope it's the truth. You almost manage to convince yourself that it was only a horrible dream, that it only felt real.  
  
Until Bellamy calls from outside the dropship, until the Grounders surround you, until Raven tries to offer Murphy's life in Finn's place. Until Finn steps out into the open, raising his hands in surrender, and something clenches in your chest, and you realize you can't stop pretending, and you accept that it's just the same as it was before.   
  
Maybe that was the point, you think, maybe you can make it better this time. Maybe you can save everyone, maybe you can save him. Except you spend that whole second day running through every situation, every scenario, and you can't find a single one that doesn't end in his death, or in everyone else's. You try, you try so hard, but you can't see another way out.  
  
So that night, you stand there in the mud and rain, with a knife in your hand and Finn's last kiss on your lips, and you do it all over again.

  
  
3.

  
  
And again.  
  
  
7.

  
And again.  
  
  
12.

  
  
And again.  
  


  
13.

  
  
Raven presses the knife in your hand, and tells you, _if she won't let him go_ , but you don't need her to finish the rest. She's told you twelve times already, but you've only just now thought about listening.  
  
You know all the words by heart, running Lexa's lines in your head before they even leave her lips. This time, though, you don't ask to say goodbye, you just slip the knife into your palm and move to strike.  
  
Lexa draws her sword--

  
  
19.

  
  
\--and runs it--  
  


  
34.

  
  
\--through your chest.

  
  
40.

  
  
You're getting quicker, though, or your timing's getting better. You've lived through it all nearly four dozen times by now, and you're starting to memorize minute movements, background noises, tricks of light, changes in the breeze. It doesn't matter how many times you had to die before you land a blow, because it's worth it. The blade sinks into Lexa's neck, and her blood runs hot when you pull it free, so hot you think it burns, but at least it's not Finn's blood, not this time around. Lexa hits the ground, one hand clutching her neck, but her eyes never leave yours, not even when their light fades away.  
  
The world is silent for half a second, and for that tiny eternity you think you've done it, you think maybe, just maybe, this is finally it.   
  
In the next second the world around you erupts, a cacophony of blood and violence. The Grounders are streaming towards the camp, and there are two right on you, blades in their hands, curved and wicked. You've only got the little knife that Raven gave you, the one that's ended Finn's life twelve times already, but not tonight. You make a stand, but before you can put up much of a struggle they've got your hands on you. You fight, and you fight, and you fight, but you can't get away. You manage one last look at Finn, just in time to see the guard nearest to him step forward and cut his throat in one swift movement.  
  
To be honest, you think dully, still scrabbling and scrambling in the Grounder's hold, you don't know why you thought this would work.

  
  
41.

  
  
You're still screaming when you wake up, clawing at something, someone, and it's nearly a full minute before you realize it's Finn. You're back in the dropship, and he's calling your name. His eyes are wide and terrified, he's got his hands wrapped tight around your wrists, pinning them down, and there are scratches on his cheek.   
  
This time, he's the one that says, _I'm right here_ , letting go of your wrist to cup your chin, to run a hand through your blood-matted hair and you want him to know how you feel, you want to tell him what you're going to do to him, what you've already done to him more times than you'd like to count.   
  
That night, you don't use the knife on Lexa, or on Finn. Instead, he shouts as you turn the blade on yourself, sliding it down your own wrist. You can see him, from the corner of your eye, fighting to free himself from his bonds, to get to you, but it's useless. You think maybe you should do the other wrist, too, just be to sure, but you seem to have lost the knife, and your knees hit the mud. Finn's still shouting, but Lexa just watches, cold and dispassionate, like you've disappointed her, somehow.  
  
The last thing you hear is Finn's voice, and your own name, ringing in your ears.

  
  
42.

  
  
You don't try suicide again, after that. Mostly it's because in all of his dozens of deaths, Finn's never made a sound, and now you can't forget the way he cried out when it was your blood, soaking into the field. And anyway, here you are again, waking up on the dropship, blinking your eyes open to Finn's worried and guilty face.  
  
For the second day in a row you almost tell him what's happening to you, and what keeps happening to him. Except, as far as you know, your personal Hell has an audience of one, and you don't think you could bear it if you thought he was in this loop with you. You want to confess that you've watched him die again and again and again, but that truth catches in your throat and you can't force it out, so another truth escapes instead.  
  
 _I love you_ , you tell him, lying there on corrugated floor of the dropship, the only place you'll ever consider your home, looking up at the boy you don't know how to save. Something flashes in his eyes, something that reminds you too much of heartbreak, so you raise up to kiss him, not caring about the pounding in your head, the blood drying on your cheek, because those things are fleeting, and you are very well acquainted with the sort of pain that lingers. You know which is worse.  
  
It shouldn't be just like that last kiss you keep having, right before you slip a knife through his ribs, but it turns out just the same. You don't let yourself think about what that means, you just press your lips to his and practice that old familiar lie. Maybe this is enough, you almost let yourself believe. Maybe this will be it.  
  
The only difference you can see is this time, Finn knows that you love him when he steps out into the open, hands raised in surrender, and he does it anyway.

  
  
49.

  
  
After a while you put it together that if you let him give himself up, Finn will die, and sometimes everyone will die, and either way the cycle continues. If you can just talk him out of surrendering, maybe that'll be the difference.   
  
You try reasoning with him.

  
  
  
56.

  
  
You beg.

  
  
59.

  
You knock him out, catching him in the side of the head with the butt of your handgun. He crumples, like a puppet with his strings cut, but you can't manhandle him up the ladder to lock him in the top level of the dropship, and Bellamy won't help you.

  
  
65.

  
  
When he finally does agree to run, there's nowhere to go. The Grounders are waiting in the woods just outside. When you make a break for it, an arrow catches you in the shoulder and another gets him square in the chest. His knees hit the ground, blood welling up in his mouth and he's still silent.

 

69.

  
  
Next you try the tunnels, thinking you'll march him all the way into the damn mountain if you have to, if that's what it takes to keep him breathing. You're maybe halfway there when you run into a Reaper hunting party. You're hoping they'll take you alive.  
  
They don't.

  
  
75.

  
  
Eventually, you just wait for Bellamy's warning shout as the Grounders file into position around your hideout, then you very calmly walk outside and start shooting. You've lived this very day so many times, you know every detail, and movement, and you never miss. You're never fast enough, either, and they start firing right back. Sometimes Murphy hits the ground first.

  
  
78.

  
  
Sometimes it's Bellamy.

  
  
80.

  
  
Or Raven.

  
  
84.

  
  
Or Finn.

  
  
86.

  
  
Or all of you at the same time, surprisingly. You never figure out how they manage it, and it only happens the once.    
  
  
87.

  
  
The next day you let Finn walk out in the open, his hands raised in surrender, and you don't say a word.

  
  
99.

  
  
 _what if you're wrong?_ Finn asks you every day. It echoes in your skull, reverberating through your bones and all the way down to your fingertips. _what if you're wrong?_  He's talking about his humanity, he wants to know if he can get back the parts of himself that he's lost along the way. You already know the answer to that question.  
  
Somewhere after attempt number ninety you get it in your head that maybe you're trying too hard, and that's the problem. Maybe you shouldn't try and stop it, maybe there's a deus ex machina hovering just on the horizon. A cloud of acid fog could come rolling out of the trees and you'd welcome it, because at least you could try something new.  
  
It doesn't matter if he surrenders, it doesn't matter if you fight, it doesn't matter what you do because he just keeps dying and you still don't know what to do about it. Every time you try and change things, Finn still dies, or everyone dies, and meanwhile you're stuck here, reliving it all. It's worth a shot, you think, putting your faith in something outside of your control.  
  
Turns out you’re better off betting on yourself, because Lincoln was right. Finn doesn't even last until dawn.

 

  
100.

  
  
You kill Finn ninety-nine times, on ninety-nine different days that all feel mostly same, before you finally accept that you're in Hell. There's no other explanation, no way for you to rationalize the way you keep waking up here on the dropship, with blood in your hair but none on your hands, the way you can bury a knife in Finn's heart one minute and wake up to him watching you the next, ninety-nine times in a row.  
  
It's not that you don't think you deserve it. You could list all your sins right alongside your salvations, and the scale still wouldn't tip in your favor. It's just, you don't think you can keep doing this, from now until eternity. You'd take fire, you'd take ice, you'd take a long dark abyss before you'd take this, this sequence of kiss him, then kill him, then wake up and repeat.  
  
Maybe it's habit by now, but you do it all the same as that very first night, just one more time.  
  
  
  
101.  
  
  
You've tried everything you can think of, but you've never tried the truth. You've got a dozen different rationalizations for why you've never spoken up -- they'd blame it on the head wound, they'd never believe you. If you're being honest -- and why not, at this point -- it's really because you can't bring yourself to confess how many times you've let this happen, how many times you've failed.  
  
You can't save Finn. You won't accept it, you probably never will, but you know. You can't save him, but you can tell him the truth.  
  
You kiss him for the hundredth last time, your hands cupping his face, and this is the part where you say, _I love you, too,_ but instead--  
  
\--instead you tell him the whole entire truth, you tell him _I'm sorry, I love you,_ you tell him you don't know what else to do.  
  
You tell him that you've killed him a hundred different times.  
  
His hands are tied behind his back, but you think he'd touch you, if he could. He breathes in deep, one of his very last. His faces folds into something like sorrow, like longing, something haunted, and that's about when you realize your private glimpse into Hell had room for two.  
  
You don't want him to speak, you don't want to know the things he's seen, or how many times he's seen them. He doesn't say any of that, he just looks you in the eyes and he tells you, _I know._  
  
You slip the knife into his chest--

  
  
**1.**

  
  
\--and you open your eyes.  
  
You scan your surroundings, taking in the walls all around, and the hundred or so other kids crammed in here with you. The dropship rattles and shakes, the lights flicker in, and out. The Chancellor's message is playing in the corner but you don't want to listen, and Wells is strapped in to your right, but you don't want to talk to him now, or probably ever. You keep looking, until you settle on a boy floating right in front of you, with dark hair and an easy grin, lying out flat on his back, hovering in the zero-g.  
  
He's an idiot, for unbuckling that, for wasting oxygen for fun, and you tell him so. He doesn't seem to mind, he just smiles right at you, and he says, "I'm Finn."  
  
  


 

 


End file.
